: Harmless Untruths (weblog)

Brave/cold front

February 12th, 2008

Winter has returned here.

It’s not shockingly cold, but after weeks of warm weather (January is turning into DC’s most pleasant month) it’s hard to adjust. I am not ecstatic about the winter weather, but I have endured far worse, so I don’t really mind a few days or weeks of temperatures below freezing. It is February.

waiting for the bus

Tonight I was waiting for the bus, feeling cold and reflective. I snapped some self-portraits with my cell phone to keep myself preoccupied, but mentally I was already adrift. On my ipod I was listening to The Pupils. I just got this album yesterday — it’s a pretty obscure side project from Baltimore’s Lungfish — and I have been listening over and over to one song, called “It’s Good to Have Met You.” You can listen to it here:

waiting for the bus

It’s a wintry kind of song, but not a bleak one. It’s simple and repetitive, focusing on fragile human relationships, repeating “I could never forget you / before I even met you / it’s good to know I’ll know you ’til the end.”

The quick snapshots of my face in the cold seemed to suit the song, all dreamy and distorted in washed-out cameraphone hues. I studied my face on the tiny screen, noticing how much older it’s grown. But I’m content with aging. It’s been a pretty good time so far, these thirty years and counting.

waiting for the bus

“It’s Good to Have Met You” seems to be a song about accepting things quietly, enjoying what you have here, while preparing yourself for the end of it all. Calm, dignified, stoic.

Aging is like that, and winter too. I’m not interested in botoxing and polishing my face to look five years younger, and I’m not going to complain about the weather. I just have to continue to surround myself with good hats and good people to keep living. It’s worked well so far.

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One Response to “Brave/cold front”

  1. mollie Says:

    hey, big bro. i really like this post and the song. you might not believe this, but i actually miss the melancholy of wintertime. it is hard to enjoy that dark depression when it only lasts two weeks. but there is part of me that wishes for bleak skies and bitterness. perhaps because we always know it is temporary, and–then when it is over–we can feel like we have endured, something. (have i stolen somebody’s poem here?) miss you…

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